


No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

by empress_ofbloodshed



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:09:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28743000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empress_ofbloodshed/pseuds/empress_ofbloodshed
Summary: inspired by the song "No Good Deed" from Wicked
Relationships: Nesta Archeron/Cassian
Kudos: 3





	No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

Seven years in the Illyrian Steppes had cured Nesta’s addiction to alcohol and made her immune to the cold. In those long years, her presence at the camps only skyrocketed tensions between the Illyrians and their High Lord.

Boys threw clumps of mud and melting snow her way as she passed the training ring, encouraged by the warriors watching them fight. They all hissed the same word.

_Witch._

At this point, it wasn’t an insult anymore. It was just another name for her. 

Mothers hid their children and made signs to ward away the devil. Hands drifted to the hilts of swords. Siphons glowed red and blue. Men spat at her feet or wouldn’t even look at her.

Her charcoal grey cloak was old, patched in places because no one would sell her a new one, no matter how much coin jangled in her purse. Mud splattered her boots as she strode through the camp to the forest. It had taken Cassian years of convincing for her to see the practicality and warmth of Illyrian leathers over her thin dresses meant for the summer warmth of Velaris. Daggers were sheathed at her side, gifts out of necessity from Cassian after three drunken males had tried to kill her.

She only survived because of the curse that lay dormant in her blood.

Cassian was away dealing with a small uprising in Stormbreak, having left Nesta with plenty of coin and a pantry stocked with food. Even so, the cabin was closing in on her. Venturing outside was taking a risk, one she would get chewed out for when he returned.

The crisp mountain air cleared her head and she stood on the path, surrounded by fir trees that reached up to the heavens, eyes closed and breathing deeply. Spring was on the horizon, she could feel it. But the wintery gusts of air off the mountain peak still forced her to clutch her cloak tightly to her body.

If she could get to the clearing without any disturbance today, she could try to harness the power lying silent in her blood, as she had been trying to do for the past few months. She had tried Amren’s method of meditation multiple times, only being able to hear the thrum of her heartbeat and how her own breathing could slow it down.

Her feet knew the worn path, letting her thoughts wander off. Cassian said he would be gone for two weeks. It had been just over a week and he was supposed to check in with her tonight. They both acknowledged the bond between them enough to communicate over long distances but nothing more than that. There was also the occasional sex when tensions ran higher than normal and they both needed a release than wasn’t destructive.

_“Cassian, this doesn’t mean anything,” Nesta said, shrugging on her robe and heading to prepare a bath._

_“Right. This doesn’t mean anything,” she heard him murmur in response as she left._

But oh, the sight of his head between her legs. How he could make her screamー

“Help me. Please.”

Nesta froze until she heard the voice again.

“Please help me, miss.”

Then through the rustling of brush emerged a young boy who could’ve been no older than ten. He limped, dragging one leg before collapsing at her feet. His wings dragged on the ground behind him, muddy and scratched from the thorn bush. Tear tracks left clean paths down his dirty face, dark brown eyes lined with tears. “It hurts real bad,” he blubbered.

That’s when Nesta saw the dark stain on his too-small pants. His thigh was dark with old, dried blood, but fresh blood dribbled down his leg from the wound.

She crouched to be at his level and tried to speak in a soothing voice. “Hey there. I’m Nesta and I can help you, you just need to let me look at your leg, okay? Is that all right with you?”

Hearing her name, his eyes went wide and he tried to scrabble backwards. “You’reーyou’re that witch,” he cried. “You’ll eat me rather than help me.”

A soft laugh escaped her before she could stop it. “Eat you? I may not have wings like you, but I eat just as you do. Now, I can help you but first you have to let me look at your leg and tell me what happened. And your name please.”

Fresh tears rolled down his cheeks but he nodded. “I’m Kieran.

“We were sparring and one of the other boys slashed my leg. I fought through it because my uncle was watching. But afterward I came out here to sleep because no one will try to steal anything by the witch’s clearing. I’ve been here for two days, I think, but no one’s come looking for me, probably because I’m a bastard.”

He whimpered as she gently peeled back the bloodied fabric and inspected his wound. The edges were still pink and raw and thankfully it wasn’t too deep. It was dirty though, and needed a good cleaning if it wasn’t going to become infected.

“Kieran,” she told him. “I’m going to pick you up now so I can take you back to the cabin. If it hurts too much, just tell me.”

The boy hissed as she picked him up, his arms wrapping around her neck. He was heavy. And the wings made it all the more awkward for her to try and walk normally without stepping on them and injuring him further. 

Eventually they made it inside the cabin. Thankfully, no one had stopped her because today was evaluation day in the rings and everyone went to watch them.

Kieran’s eyes went wide as she gently laid him on the couch in front of the roaring fire. “This is the Lord of Bloodshed’s cabin. IーI can’t be here.” He tried to stand up and leave but collapsed back onto the couch in pain.

Nesta prepared both a cup of hot mint tea while she mixed the herbs to create a drought that would numb the pain as she cleaned and stitched his wound. Retrieving one of Cassian’s old shirts and a pair of his pants, she returned to the living area where the boy was flipping through a book of faerie tales. He had wrapped himself in blankets and looked quite at home, even though pain flashed across his face as he shifted his leg.

While she cleaned and stitched up his thigh, he screamed in pain before passing out. She bandaged his leg and slipped him into Cassian’s clothes before carrying Kieran to Cassian’s bed. The boy looked even younger in his sleep and whimpered in his drought-induced slumber, crying out a name.

The next few days she cared for Kieran, bandaging his wound twice a day and making sure there were no signs of infection. He was restless, she could tell. He wanted to move, to fight, to fly. Instead she read him faerie tales and stories of great warriors from the Illyrian war history books Cassian hoarded. He was ravenous, eating everything she made and always asking for seconds.

One night as she was reading to him, someone banged on the door to the cabin. She told Kieran to stay silent, who looked absolutely terrified. And she couldn’t blame him.

Sheathing her knives and the Illyrian sword, she opened the door to the male warriors of the camp standing on her doorstep, holding torches aloft. One of them stepped forward, oozing with arrogance.

“Witch, I am Lord Aden, as I’m sure you know. My nephew went missing a week ago and one of the girls here said she saw you carrying him into this cursed abode.” His sneer was purely evil and Nesta wanted to slice his head off the same way she had the King of Hybern’s.

“He’s injured,” Nesta snarled. “If not for me, he would be dead by now.”

Lord Aden turned to the group of warriors, gesturing to her. “You see, she uses her dark magic to heal the boy and bring him back from death.

“Witch. 

“Witch.”

The chant was taken up by his posse and it grew louder, gaining a life of its own the longer and louder they chanted.

“My lord, if Kieran is truly your nephew, he needs to be allowed to heal. Or you’ll have one less Illyrian warrior in your battalion. If his leg doesn’t heal properly, he won’t be able to use it as you so easily use yours.” Nesta despised begging, but she was desperate. She had grown to care for the young boy over the few days they were stuck together.

“If he can’t fight, then we might as well kill him and get it over with now.”

Two warriors seized her, holding her arms as Lord Aden dragged Kieran from the cabin. Kieran screamed in pain as his uncle punched him in the thigh, crumpling to the ground and sobbing.

Nesta fought, screaming for Kieran. “No, stop! You’re hurting him!”

Lord Aden turned to her, grinning a shark’s grin. “Would you rather I hurt him, witch?” Waving his hand, the crowd parted to reveal Cassian being dragged forward on his knees, head hanging low. His bare torso was bloodied and bruised.

Nesta roared, swearing that she would kill Aden if he ever touched a hair on either Kieran or Cassian’s heads.

Hearing her voice, Cassian lifted his head and she saw one eye was blackened and swollen, blood dribbling from his lips. He tried to smile, just for her, but winced.

“Choose, witch. The boy or your mate.” A finger beneath her chin forced her to meet Aden’s gaze. “Choose, witch.”

Spitting in Aden’s face, Nesta chose neither. “Fuck you.”

Her knees buckled as the pommel of his sword slammed into her nose. Blood dripped onto the clean wooden planks. The two Illyrians dropped her and she crumbled to the ground.

“Alright then, tear the wings off both,” Lord Aden ordered.

Nesta began chanting in a whisper, praying to the gods that it would work. Or at least the power in her blood would flare to life.

“Eleka nahmen nahmen,

Ah tum ah tum eleka nahmen,

Eleka nahmen nahmen,

Ah tum ah tum eleka nahmen.

Let his flesh not be torn,

Let his blood leave no stain.

Though they beat him,

Let him feel no pain,

Let his bones never break.

And however they try

To destroy him

Let him never die.”

Over and over she chanted, until she could taste the fear settling over the camp like fresh snowfall. She chanted until she felt the blood in her veins thrumming. 

When she stood, they cowered.

A flick of her fingers had males crumpling to the muddied ground. Others writhed in pain as their blood boiled inside their bodies. Some had their heart rates increase so suddenly they foamed at the mouth and convulsed on the ground.

Lord Aden stood frozen in fear as she stalked toward him, slashing a deep cut in his thigh. He shouted for help, but none came.

“You reject my kindness. I have tried to help your people but instead have been shoved out into the cold at every opportunity. Now,” she snarled, “your punishment will be the same as you were prepared to do to both your nephew and your commander.

“I take no pleasure in this, Aden. But no good deed must go unpunished.”

His screams echoed for miles in the night air as she sheared his wings from his body.

Nesta sank to her knees in the mud, cradling Cassian. He reached up to tug on a loose curl that had escaped her braid. She sobbed when she saw the knife embedded in his stomach, reaching for it when his hand closed around her wrist.

“It’s too late, Nessa. I love you more than anything in this world.” Cassian pressed a soft kiss to her palm. “I love you, Nesta Archeron. Never forget that.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks, dripping onto his chest. “Nononono, you can’t. You bastard, you promised me. You promised us a life after the war. Don’t you dare die on me now.”

But it was useless. The power that still thrummed through her veins allowed her to see the golden light in him dimming and his life coming to an end. When she looked at her hands, they were drenched in golden light.

The gold flecks in Cassian’s eyes began to dim as he smiled up at her, clutching her hands in his. “In this life or the next, sweetheart,” he whispered, chest falling as he finished speaking, never to rise again.

Nesta sobbed, clutching Cassian even as she could feel the warmth beginning to fade. Kieran poked her shoulder, shivering. He hobbled inside and returned with a blanket, wrapping it around her.

Golden light flowed from her hands to Kieran, healing his leg and leaving only a clean scar. She tried to force the golden light to flow from her hands into Cassian but it was only absorbed. No golden strands of life appeared.

With the sun, Nesta rose.

If Cassian had been the Lord of Bloodshed, she would be the Queen of Death. Whenever she found who was responsible for Cassian’s death, they would die very slow and painful deaths.

Nesta took Kieran’s hand as the rising sun brought light to the atrocities committed last night. Looking down at him, she squeezed his hand.

“Maybe they’re right. Maybe I am a witch,” she mused.

Kieran grumbled, “No witch would heal my leg and take care of me for days.”

“Let them fear me,” she replied, staring into the sun until it blinded her. “No good deed goes unpunished, after all.”


End file.
